


How Can You Feel The Way That I'm Feeling (If You're Not Inside Of My Head)

by x_Ren_x



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Age Difference, Aged-Up Otabek Altin, Angry Yuri Plisetsky, Angst, Background Relationships, Badass Otabek Altin, Badass Yuri Plisetsky, Ballet Dancer Mila Babicheva, Christophe Giacometti is 36, Christophe Giacometti is a Good Friend, Christophe is Otabek's editor, Clubbing, Confident Yuri Plisetsky, Connections with Russian Mafia, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Eventual Smut, Exhibitionism, F/F, Falling In Love, Fantasizing, Feels, First Time, Forbidden Love, Generation Gap, He's beautiful and knows it alright, Horror Novelist Otabek Altin, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Jealous Otabek Altin, Jealous Yuri Plisetsky, Long-Haired Yuri Plisetsky, M/M, Married Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Mental Health Issues, Minor Mila Babicheva/Sara Crispino, Modeling, Mutual Pining, New Couple Christophe Giacometti/Phichit Chulanont, Novelist Otabek Altin, Nude Modeling, Nude Photos, Otabek Altin is 38, Otabek is taller than Yuri, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overprotective Otabek Altin, Overprotective Yuuri and Victor, Phichit Chulanont is 25, Photography, Pierced Yuri Plisetsky, Pining Otabek Altin, Rebellious Yuri Plisetsky, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Tension, Single Dad Otabek Altin, Small Tattoos, Teen Yuri Plisetsky, Underage - Freeform, Underage Smoking, Victor Nikiforov is 40, Yuri Plisetsky Needs a Hug, Yuri Plisetsky has Trust Issues, Yuri Plisetsky is 18, Yuri Plisetsky is a part-timer, Yuri Plisetsky is a tease, Yuri Plisetsky occasionally poses Nude, Yuuri Katsuki is 32, unlucky in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2019-06-25 16:22:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15644463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/x_Ren_x/pseuds/x_Ren_x
Summary: There was one thing Yuri Plisetsky was certain of: we all walk this world alone.Or at least, he does... and likes it to be that way, too.Until a certain Otabek Altin stumbles into his life and somehow manages to turn his world upside-down.And maybe, just maybe, the time has finally come for Yuri to be happy.Only problem is: Otabek Altin is a stressed novelist, single dad... and twenty years his senior.





	1. Sharper the blade is, the easier it scars your soul

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ THE TAGS BEFORE SCROLLING DOWN ANY FURTHER! 
> 
> Hello!   
> I've had this AU idea stuck in my head for so long and (being OtaYuri trash) the story basically wrote itself in my head.   
> I'm currently really insecure about this, that's why I'm just posting the prologue for now. 
> 
> The title for this fic (and prologue) was brought to you by "Wiped Out!", an amazing song by The Neighbourhood. 
> 
> That being said, I hope you enjoy!

Yuri Plisetsky felt out of place.

 

Yuri Plisetsky, sixteen years of age, dressed in a suit.

Yuri Plisetsky, with damp cheeks and snot all over his chin, felt very out of place.

 

_“It happened last night — said it was heart failure. Who found him was the kid himself this morning.”_

_“Poor thing. To think that Nikolai took him in when he was only five… orphaned at such a young age by the hand of a terrible fate!”_

_“I heard they were in a car accident, is that correct?”_

_“Yes, yes! Poor kid…”_

 

People that Yuri Plisetsky had never once seen in his life kept murmuring behind his back, their voices muffled by the heavy rain.

Having strangers meddle in other people’s affairs (more precisely, his) was one of the things Yuri hated the most.

Dealing with unwanted attention, with the half-assed sympathy that, let’s be honest here, was only meant to last until the end of this whole ordeal.

 

**_What do they know?_ **

**_How could they know?_ **

**_Would they be able to go on living after coming to the such a scary conclusion?_ **

 

… That being, Yuri Plisetsky was completely **alone**.

 

Yuri Plisetsky, sixteen years of age, was utterly wrecked and alone.

And scared.

And angry.

Altogether, he felt like shit.

 

Staring down at the way-too-big dress shoes, black and polished in stark contrast with the green and muddy ground, Yuri's mind was elsewhere. 

 

_Would dedushka laugh at me for wearing such stupid shoes?_

_I bet he'd say they don't fit me at all. Quite literally._

Yuri smiles a little to himself.

_Would he also be annoyed by these people's endless chattering?_

_Would he take my cold hand in his calloused ones and take me away from this place?_

_And at that time, would I be able to properly thank him?_

 

No. Of course not. 

He fucked it up big time- fucked it all up. 

His grandfather was there with him when they got that call, on that day. Yuri had seen him cry, the first and only time. Watched his knuckles turn white as he clutched at the old telephone. He had hugged him. 

And then it all didn't make sense in Yuri Plisetsky's five-year-old mind: dressing up in uncomfortable clothes, being brought to (what seemed to be) an endless field of green grass with a bunch of stones that looked all exactly the same (how _boring_!) with people dressed in black crying their eyes out. 

_What are they so sad about?_ , his child self thought. _Or maybe their tummies hurt?_

How naïve. 

His grandpa wouldn't let go of his hand the whole time. Yuri could feel him shaking as some men helped lowering a long, narrow box into the ground. 

_What's in that? Hey, dedushka, what are they doing?_

Nikolai just kissed his nephew's head.

 

Then their life together started. Eventually, Yuri came to know about his parents' death, about the car accident. 

He had cried, obviously, alone and sobbing into his pillow.

He tried, as much as he could, to not give his _dedushka_ a hard time. Took him to the Hospital each time for his check-ups. Tried to take care of him the best that he could.

But eventually, the older he got, the more and more difficult it became.

He drew back into himself. Started hanging out with the wrong crowd once he entered high school, did dumb shit. Got carried away. 

They argued and fought a lot, of course, Yuri being a rebellious teenager and Nikolai sick and tired of receiving warning calls from the school,

 

But Yuri never once managed to tell him how grateful he was to have him in his life. 

Just a few, quick, " _Love you_ "s.

That wasn't enough for a man as wonderful as his dedushka. Wasn't enough for a man that tried to raise his nephew as his own kid at the ripe old age of 65.

 

Yuri had not been able to say his final goodbye,

his final, hasty 'Love you', 

not even a simple 'Thank you'. 

And he couldn't, not anymore.

His grandfather was not here to hold his hand this time. 

 

So Yuri Plisetsky, sixteen years of age, felt like a jerk. Like a horrible, remorseful jerk. 

And ignoring the cold rain falling on him, drenching his hair and clothes,

he cried.

 

 

 


	2. The lonely dreamer survives the night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Hello.   
>  Yes, yes I'm back after a 7 months hiatus.   
> I've been... busy. Let's just say that.   
> Nonetheless, hope you enjoy the first chapter!  
> Let's go. 
> 
>  
> 
> ❇ song for this chapter : Youthful Stranger - Loud Hound 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yoKOzqZSSZw

“Just like that. Hold that pose,”

Yuri is lying on these green, satin sheets; blonde hair splayed out framing his face and sultry look in his eyes.

“Ok, look at me now.”

Yuri does as he’s told, shifting his gaze to look at the guy standing above him. 

“You really are such a gorgeous little thing. Ever thought about making a living out of this?”

Yuri rolls his eyes and sits up. He’s used to it. Used to the compliments, to the lustful looks and words, the “Would you like a drink?” and, sadly enough, used to the “God I want to fuck you so bad”. What’s really sad is that he doesn’t care about it anymore. He eventually accepted that’s the way it is.

He knows he’s pretty, alright - no, scratch that. He knows he’s fucking gorgeous. With his mom’s sharp, green eyes; willowy figure and his dad’s full lips and strong features.

And he’s also smart enough to know how to make use of these looks he’s hated throughout his whole adolescence, back when his classmates would call him names and bully him for his feminine appearence.

Fuck them.

“Time’s up,” he brings the covers with him as he gathers his clothes and ties his hair up. Once finished, he turns to the young photographer, his own steely gaze meeting a half-lidded one. He gracefully extends his slender hand, “Money”, he reminds the guy.

Said guy, for his part, gives a small laugh as he reaches for the money in the back of his navy blue jeans. “Here we go. I’ll call you again if you’re up for another shooting. Or, you know, if you ever need anything or would just like to…”

Yuri’s getting impatient. He surely has got no time for this.

And so he raises one eyebrow, glares at him and puts his hand even closer to the taller’s man chest. Honestly, he would straight up take the money from his hands and leave, but he knows better than that.

“…Thanks for the pictures, angel.”

Yuri deliberately decides to ignore the pet name, cringes internally and hates the way the guy’s hands linger on his a second too long. He’d like to punch the fucker’s face, but he’s giving him the agreed amount of cash, and Yuuri has told him many times about how he should count until ten before acting on his fits of anger.

So instead, he settles for a flat “Sure”.

 

* * *

 

“Yuri! You’re late!”

He sighs as he slams the backdoor of the pub.

“Yo. You starting now?” it’s Mila, Yuri’s best friend and confidant.

Mila, the one he shares an apartment with.

Sweet, crazy Mila.

“Duh. Just finished a shooting,” Yuri opens his locker and violently throws his bag in there. “I’m so fucking tired.”

“Told you many times not to overwork yourself,” she says in that motherly tone Yuri hates but at the same time oh so needs, smiling dumbly down on her phone.

_Sara_.

“You look like an idiot, you know” Yuri says, and it sounds harsher than he had intended to, tying up his burgundy apron and hastily pulling his hair in a low ponytail.

Mila simply shrugs it off, “It’s Sara. She’s coming to pick me up and taking me out for dinner.”

Truth to be told, Yuri is happy for her. She deserves the best. And this Sara, she’s pretty cool. She rides a motorbike. She’s Italian and cooks Gnocchi every time she comes over.

...But of course Yuri can't say this to Mila.

Come on, that would definitely mess with his reputation. His badass persona would lose its credibility. 

( _It wouldn’t_ )

“Oh, before I forget,” Mila grabs her backpack and throws it over her shoulder, “There’s this hottie tonight. You know, tall dark and handsome. Tatted all over. Isn’t that your type?” She checks her lipstick one last time in front of the mirror, then turns to look at Yuri straight in the eyes, sudden serious look appearing on her face. “He’s dressed in a suit. Yuri, who the fuck wears a suit in a pub?”

Yuri smirks to contain his laughter. Mila lets out a giggle herself, “Seems like he’s having a tough night. Oh well, I’ll see you later on tonight.”

Yuri simply nods as he lets the information sink in, even though he couldn't care less today. He shoots a glance at the mass of curly, red hair disappear behind the backdoor.

“Yuuuuri! Hurry uuup!”

Fucking Viktor. Fucking pub. Fucking life.

Fucking HELL!

“I’M COMING!”

 

* * *

 

“Tequila. On the rocks.”

Three years. It’s been three years already since Veronika’s passing.

One month. Only one month until the deadline for submitting his new novel. 

Chris is going to kill him.

“Would you like some salt and a slice of lemon to go with it?” the asian man with the big, brown eyes asks. Otabek just stares at him and spares him an absent-minded, small nod. Might as well get wasted.

“Oh Yuri! Perfect timing,”

…And that’s when Otabek’s eyes catch ‘Yuri’ come behind the counter: purplish dark circles that look so out of place on such a harmonious face and cold, green eyes that almost immediately meet his own.

( _Or maybe they’re blue? Grey? He doesn’t care much at that point, and can’t really tell with the warm yellow lights and bight neon light underneath the shelves of liquors_ ).

“Tequila on the rocks. Salt and lemon to go with it,” the asian man informs before stepping off to take some orders.

‘Yuri’ tucks a stray strand of hair behind his fully pierced ear. “Silver or gold?”

Otabek notices the way the stranger’s pink lips move slightly, until enough seconds of awkward silence pass to make him realise the question was directed to him.

“Uhh. Gold?”

The beautiful guy smirks. “You tell me.”

God. Why is this guy so attractive?

_No, no no no calm down Otabek. Get your shit together. This is your wife’s death anniversary. Your one, true love remember? The love you would never betray?_

Yuri skilfully pours the golden liquid in the crystal glass, putting a bit of salt and the perfectly cut slice of lemon on a brown napkin before sliding it in front of Otabek. “Enjoy” he says before giving him a small smile, one that doesn’t reach his beautiful, magnetic, ice cold eyes.

 

* * *

 

He's wearing a fucking wedding ring.

_Seriously?_

He just looks so sad. And somehow, strangely enough, Yuri sees himself in this mess of a man.

_He might be as damaged as I am._

_Damn, why the hell am I even thinking about something like that? I don’t even know him. What a waste of time._

“Yuri,” The way his name rolls off the stranger’s tongue makes a shiver run down Yuri’s spine. Blame that freaking deep voice.

Yuri turns around, not effectively masking the surprised look dancing on his face. The stranger’s beautiful, black eyes immediately widen, making them look twice as big. “Oh- Fuck- I mean- That other guy called you that so I thought—“ Yuri interrupts him with a fit of laughter.

A genuine, heartfelt laughter this time.

_Never thought someone so big and tough looking could be so awkward._

“The one and only,” he smirks a little to himself as he looks at the man. “Need another fill?” Otabek looks at him, bewildered look in his eyes and all, and then—

“ **OTABEK ALTIN**!”

A slightly accented, male voice interrupts them as an angry looking blonde guy makes his way to the counter.

“Oh shit—“

Right. Some strange stuff happening that Yuri definitely doesn’t want to get involved in.

 

* * *

 

“I knew I would find you holed up in here!” Chris throws his briefcase somewhere beneath the stool as he takes a seat and brushes a hand through his messy blonde hair, “What the fuck Otabek. We only have one month left. ONE. MONTH. And you’re sitting here getting drunk like you don’t give a single damn.”

Yuri, beautiful Yuri, glares at him as he says “I’ll be right there if you need anything.”

“The strongest liquor you have, please!” Chris says with his trademark dramatic tone.

“Chris… it’s Veronika's death anniversary. Just leave me be.” Otabek’s voice is unwavering, tired but at the same time cold.

“…I know,” Christophe says after a moment of hesitation, and takes a sip of the brownish liquid he is given.

“I know. I miss her too. We all do. But I also know what you’re like, I know what you’ve been through, and I do not wish for you to repeat the same mistakes.” Otabek just keeps quiet as he stares at his crossed hands in front of him.

“…Where’s Yerik?”

“I left him with Phichit. You didn’t know?”

Chris laughs bitterly, “That little… of course he wouldn’t tell me a thing.” he tells himself rather than answering Otabek. “We’ve had a bit of a… let’s just say there was a misunderstanding and me being the foolish idiot that I am… said some things that could have possibly hurt him."

 

 

_“Why can’t you just fucking trust what I fucking say!” Phichit says exhaustedly, anger and frustration clear in his voice._

_“Because I know that’s not how things work! I know, Phichit, that you’ll eventually find somebody else. Somebody who has the time to take you somewhere nice on the weekends, somebody that manages to come home before you fall asleep, somebody who’s younger—”_

_"But I told you already I DON’T FUCKING CARE ABOUT THAT!” his eyes fill with tears, he grits his teeth, “I think… no, I **know** that I’m in love with you!” _

_Christophe’s eyes widen, and even though he wants to say a lot of things to the young man standing right before him, not even a single word escapes his mouth._

_“…But apparently, that’s not enough for you.” Phichit says in a whisper, that one tear that threatened to leave is now falling down his face. He grabs his bag and hastily leaves, shutting the door behind him_.

 

 

“You messed up big time.” Otabek says as he takes another sip of tequila, the glint in his eyes silently thanking Yuri.

The blonde smiles a bit, again, not a real smile. But Otabek will let that slide.

“I did, didn’t I?” Chris chugs down the rest of his drink in one go, resting his head between his arms, hand still clutched tight around the glass. “Fuck. Fuck!”

“But you love him, don’t you?” Otabek feels a bit light headed, but he always held his liquor better than the man blabbering next to him, that had a reputation back in highschool for being a lightweight.

“God knows how much I do,” he lifts his head for a moment. “I love everything about him. His smile, the little dimples on his cheeks… he has some dimples above his ass, too!” Otabek widens his eyes. “Chris... wait…”

“And the fucking sounds he makes! His soft skin! The way his eyes get all watery and stuff... God I love that too! Sex with him is the best I’ve ever had in my WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE!!” his voice gradually starts rising, a few curious glances are thrown their way.

“Alrighty, guess that’s enough for the night.” a tall, handsome man with silver hair and eyes the deepest shade of blue says with a polite smile, slipping the glass away from Christophe’s vice grip.

“I’m so sorry about this… he doesn’t really drink that often, and so…” Otabek must have turned bright red by now, feeling embarrassed by his friend’s antics.

“It’s totally fine! Just, we wouldn’t want to bother the other costumers, yes?” again, that polite smile with that gentle, slightly accented voice. Otabek nods and puts on his coat before helping Chris to his feet, the man already long gone, and his eyes search everywhere for blonde hair and a pair of green eyes.

No success.

“Thank you, have a good night!” the silver-haired man and asian man say in unision, Otabek noticing the matching golden bands around their fingers, not giving it too much thought.

On their way to the door, Christophe’s arm thrown around Otabek’s shoulders, Otabek sighs and says to his ear “We will never come back here again you jackass”, earning a soft laugh from Chris.

_That means I’ll probably never get to see ‘Yuri’ again._

“ 'Night. Funny how the one who was supposed to do the rescuing got rescued instead,”

that voice.

Otabek turns around and sees him, his slim figure and blonde strands of hair falling on his face, arms crossed with a smirk on his face. Otabeks laughs.

“Right… funny how life works sometimes,” he hopes the bitterness of his voice isn't as noticeable once it reaches Yuri’s ears.

“Have a goodnight, Yuri.” he says simply, not even looking at those eyes, as he leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely apologise for leaving for so long, I hope you guys will still read and enjoy this.   
> Tell me if I need to make any changes, if you didn't like the switch of POVs, or anything else for that matter.  
> I wanted to give you guys a bit of a backstory between Christophe and Phichit, too. They also have a big age gap, Chris being 38 and Phichit 25. But oh well. Both consenting adults, right? But many hardships come with it.
> 
> I don't know where this story will lead us, but I feel like it will be one hell of a journey.


	3. Maybe it's a blessing in disguise

"Rise and shine, Yurochka!"

 

Yuri just groans in response, burying his head a little further under the soft pillow.

"Come on, Yuri, get your ass out of that bed," he feels a hand gripping his ankle, his warm ( _extremely_ warm) duvet being pulled off of his (mostly) naked form,

and if he wasn't enough to begin with, now it's really the time for him to get extremely  _pissed off_.

"Mila, it's Sunday, what in the fucking _hell_ do you want from me."

Mila simply sits next to Yuri, laughing a bit.

"Good morning sleeping beauty," she ruffles Yuri's hair a bit, only to be rewarded with a soft smack on her hand, his face still buried deep in the pillow. "Well, you know how Sara volunteers at that library down the street on the weekends, right? Well, she said an important author is going to showcase his latest work, and well, there's also this signing event and..." 

"You're basically trying to trick me into coming with you 'cause you know that it's going to be boring as fuck, right?" Yuri rolls onto his back, stretching his arms out above his head, his ribs showing in the process. 

Mila's eyes linger on his ribs a bit too long, and a quick look of worry crosses her face, before it fades into a sly smile. "Bingo." 

An exasperated sigh leaves Yuri's lips, "You owe me big time, you know that? I only have Sundays off and you're taking that away from me, dammit." he rubs the sleep out of his eyes, sitting up. "...But I also know it's your anniversary. So to hell with it, I'll do it."

"Oh Yura! You're so sweet!" she throws her arms around his lithe form, fighting back a laugh as he struggles against her.

"What?! The fuck?! _Fuck no_ I'm not! Get **off** of me you old hag!!!" and in spite of his harsh words, Mila clearly sees that he too, is trying to bite back a smile. 

"Whatever. Sara texted me saying that we have to be ready in about... an hour?" she gets up from the bed, turning towards Yuri just a bit before saying, "Oh and Yuri? Would it be possible for you to stay over at a friend's house tonight? I was thinking about asking Yuuri and Victor but..."

Undoubtedly, the big, soft pillow is thrown at her. "Disgusting! Now get the hell out!" 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"Mila! Yuri! I'm so happy to see you guys made it on time!" Sara, with her trademark genuine smile, comes over to greet them both with a hug before leaning in to place a small kiss on her girlfriend's cheek.

"The presentation is about to start. Find a place to sit and enjoy, I have to check if everything's ready," and with that, she's gone. 

"You're lucky I like her. I'm so fucking tired." Yuri grumpily takes his seat as he adjusts his sunglasses. 

"Oh come on. How could anyone dislike this ray of sunshine," she gives a little wave to Sara, who's still looking at them with a smile as she places a glass of water on the blue table, next to the black microphone. 

"Yeah, yeah." Yuri says distractedly as he looks around at the room slowly filling with people. "Wow. I'm so looking forward to see this middle aged, balding author talking about his super interesting new work. What kind of books does he write anyway? Erotica?" Mila giggles a bit, not failing to notice Yuri's voice dripping with sarcasm. 

"He's quite young, really. Sara has read a couple of his works, says he's really talented. He writes horror novels, mind you." 

"Oh." and that's how much Yuri is willing to acknowledge him for the time being. "I just hope we're going to get this over with quick."

"You and I both, bud." 

The room erupts into a round of applause as said author makes his way to the table right in front of them. And-- _fuck_. There's absolutely _no freaking way_.

And Yuri takes off his sunglasses because it cannot be-- (it _must_ be a _joke_ , and a _bad_ one at that) because **_he_** 's here-- black tailored suit fitting snugly around his broad shoulders, brown hair tied back in a low bun and all, the man awkwardly rubbing the stubble on his cheeks, the thin hair trailing down to his razor-sharp jawline.

The man's eyes scan quickly over the crowd of people sitting there just for him as the - _what Yuri assumes to be_ \- owner of the library gives a brief introduction.

It takes few moments for those deep, brown eyes to fall onto green ones, and a few more seconds to let the sudden realization sink in. 

 _So we meet again_.

The man standing right in front of him inhales sharply, feigning composure, taking the offered microphone into his big hand. "Yes, I would like to start off by saying a big thank you to each and every one of you that came today to the presentation of my newest work, ' _What lies at the End_ '."

He sits down at the table, book in his hand. "Soon after this we'll be having a signing event, so please look forward to that, too" he offers a small smile, Yuri's heart loudly thumping against his ribcage.

"Yuri, _Yuri_!" Mila hisses to get his attention, "Isn't he the one I told you about a few weeks ago? At the pub? Do you remember?" 

 _How could I forget_. "Yep, definitely him." Yuri says, sinking further into his chair. 

Mila smirks at him. "Thought he was younger, like in his twenties. Turns out he's a successful novelist, and with a kid to boot."

Yuri's eyebrows shoot up at that. "What? He has a kid?" 

Mila simply nods. "Sara told me so. He's very young, can't be older than six. Curly hair and big, green eyes, darker than yours but none the less very pretty. He's staying with Sara while his daddy promotes his book, you know?" 

 _What the hell, he has a kid_.  _I mean, I should've seen that one coming after seeing the wedding ring. And he's older,_ _probably much older than me, alright. So what exactly is it that makes me so fucking attracted to this man?_

Meanwhile, the man keeps on talking as he holds his book and answers a series of questions, his eyes meeting Yuri's for a fleeting moment, thin lips forming a small smile. Yuri groans internally.

_I'm fucked. So, so fucked._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Throughout the whole thing, Yuri couldn't stop himself from staring at the man and study his movements. 

The small smile that would grace his tired expression whenever someone complimented his work, the way his muscles would flex under the white shirt, the way he would subconsciously scratch his stubble whenever a hard question came by, pondering his words attentively; and _everything-- **everything**_ about the man, Yuri found alluring. 

He came to know the name of this man, Otabek; _Otabek Altin_. A man which is thirty-eight years of age, a man whose background is completely unknown if not for the smallest bit of information one might expect from such a name: he was born in Kazakhstan. 

_Maybe he's able to speak some Russian?_

Yuri immediately shakes the intrusive thought away. 

"Cigarette break," Yuri announced suddenly, Mila giving him a warning look. 

"You... you shouldn't be smoking when you're so young, it's really bad for your health. We've been over that already." 

Yuri only rolls his eyes in annoyance. "Big fucking deal. We all die anyway. And this whole thing you forced me to attend has almost ended _thank God_ , so if you could just leave me alone, that would be great." 

Yuri knows he's being an asshole, and that bringing up the favor Mila asked him was a total dick move, and that what she just told him was _for his own good_ (something Yuri himself didn't care about nearly as much as he should, self-destructive demeanor or not); but he can't help it. That's the way he is, or the way he convinces himself to be. Not that there's a big difference in that. 

 

( _There is_.) 

 

"I'll be right back," he mumbles as he shoves his hands in the big denim jacket he's wearing, searching for his Marlboro reds.

As he closes the library's heavy, glass door behind him, he puts the stick between his lips, realizing a bit too late he didn't carry his lighter with him.

"Seriously, what _is_ life?!" he says irked, before hearing the door falling shut once again.

"Need a light?" an amused voice, and _of course_ (really, doesn't surprise him one bit), of course the owner of that voice had to be that man,

Otabek Altin.

"...That would be great." Yuri manages, Otabek soon coming close to lit his cigarette himself. 

And if Yuri was taken aback for even just a moment, he surely didn't show it.

"Thanks." he says quickly, letting the smoke out from his nose. 

"No problem. You're Yuri, right? From the pub? It's been a while." 

Now, _now_ Yuri is surprised. 

"Yeah. It's been a while." 

Silence. 

"So... an author huh?" 

Otabek's face glows at that. "Yes! Honestly, I was a bit surprised to find you here. Don't take this as an offense or anything, but I would've never thought of you as the type to read horror novels."

Yuri gracefully puffs out a cloud of smoke. "None taken. Besides, I'm not. My friend forced me to come with her." 

And it sounds harsher than Yuri intended for it to, something in the novelist's eyes fades.

"Is that so. None the less, I'm happy to see you once again."

He doesn't know why, but Yuri feels his chest growing warm at the words. 

"Yeah... me too." 

"And I know it's none of my business, but aren't you a bit too young to smoke? It's no good for someone in their early twenties to be damaging their lungs that way." Otabek narrows his eyes just so, scrutinizing gaze directed at the blonde. 

 _I'm not even twenty_ , Yuri thinks, but that he won't say. "Oh come on, I don't feel like getting lectured right now. Shouldn't you be inside signing and stuff?" he asks in a playful tone.

Otabek smirks. Fucking **_smirks_** at him. "I probably should, but I needed a break from all those people."

"Yeah, I can understand that," and he really does. He's never been one known for his exceptional social skills, and within his line of work, he has to deal will sorts of different people almost every. single. day.

"Well, Yuri. Once I'm done I'll probably get something to drink with my editor and a couple other people at  _Blue Tiger_ ," he puts out his cigarette, "I promise they're not as... _eccentric_ as Chris." he smiles. "If you've got nothing better to do, why don't you and your friend join us?"

_What?_

Yuri gives him a teasing look. "Sure it's not a trap? Aren't I a bit too young to go out drinking with you guys?"

Color drains from Otabek's face. Yuri simply laughs. 

"Deal. But my friend won't stay with me tonight. She's got some... plans." yeah, _romantic shit and fucking_. 

"Oh... oh. Well, I wouldn't want you to feel uncomfortable in any way, so maybe..."

Yuri continues with him, folding his arms. "... So maybe if it was just the two of us, it wouldn't be much of a problem, right?"

Otabek visibly swallows, his adam's apple bobbing. "No, it wouldn't." 

Yuri's smiles widens. "So..." 

Otabek closes his eyes for a brief second. "So... would you possibly be interested in getting something to drink with this old man later?" he laughs a bit, scratching the back of his head. 

_Hell yes I would._

"Hm... are you paying for it?" playing hard to get is always fun, and playing hard to get with this man is downright _exciting_.

That earns him one of the most beautiful laughs he's ever heard in his life. "Sure thing." 

"Well then, this is it. I'll see you inside, Mr. Famous Novelist." Yuri graces him with another, small smile, before sauntering back inside the big library, his hips tilting from one side to the other the _slightest bit,_ but he's pretty sure that it is enough to make Otabek stare. 

And sure enough, for his part, Otabek can't help himself but stare and _God--_

the way his phone is insistently ringing from his back pocket brings him back to earth. He exhales slowly before answering. 

"Chris?" 

" _Beks, where in the hell are you?! We've still got some signing left to do!"_

"Yeah.. I'm coming. By the way, just so you know, there's a bit of a change of plans for tonight. Would it be a problem for you to keep Yerik just for tonight?" 

_"...Wait, why would you want your precious son to spend the night out if not..."_

Silence. And then: " _Otabek Altin. Bring your ass here. We need to wrap this up, and **then** we'll have a talk_."

Otabek sighs. "Yes mom." 

" _Oh shut up._ "

The line goes silent. 

_I don't want anything more than just savor our time together, and learn more about Yuri. Is there anything wrong with that?_

The  tired novelist scratches his head, finally going back inside, a new feeling of excitement in his chest: he's got something to look forward to.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello! So... here's another chapter.  
> They meet again! After a month or so but... they do!  
> And Otabek is still not aware of Yuri's age. Oh, I can sense the angst coming. But! That will have to wait for the next chapter ;)  
> For the time being: what did you guys think? Please let me know if you enjoyed this by leaving a comment, I always gladly read and answer each and every one of them!  
> Until next time!
> 
> \- Ren
> 
>  
> 
> * Chapter title comes from The Neighbourhood's song "Reflection".


	4. You should close your eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otabek and Yuri get to be alone together, and revelations are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: Heart-Shaped Glasses - Marilyn Manson   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i0yBtBYoSJc

"Otabek, seriously, get a grip on yourself." Chris says as he unfastens his tie. 

"Chris, you don't understand-- there's just _something_ in those eyes that make me feel like I could do anything for him and I..." 

"You're just horny. Understandable. But still, you have to keep in mind that you're thirty-eight years old already, and have a son to take care of. I don't know how much of a good idea it is to just go with the flow." 

Otabek gives and absentminded nod in acknowledgment, his attention drifting to the slim blonde laughing with a red headed, curly girl; talking animatedly with the employee next to her, a young girl with a ponytail.

Chris notices it, whispering to his friend "Is that him?" 

"Yeah..." and there must be something more eloquent to say, anything, but he can't bring himself to do anything but stare at the guy, awestruck. 

"...I see. Yeah, sure he's a piece of eye candy. But... isn't he a bit too young for you? And a male, Otabek."

"I know that," he retorts aggressively. "It's... I don't know, Chris, I really don't. I haven't felt anything like that in _years_ , you know that already."

Chris gives him a small smile, a sad one. Puts his hand on his friend's shoulder affectionately. "I know, Beks. I know. I just want you to be happy and not find yourself in difficult situations, that's all."

"Yeah... I can see that." he smirks as he nudges his friend's side, Yuri looking his way.

"Just... trust me this once. You know I'm not the type to do things hazardously. I just want to spend some time with him, is that too much to ask?" 

Chris shakes his head. "No, it's not," he throws his briefcase onto his shoulder and sighs deeply, seemingly in deep thought. "Well then. That girl, Sara, told me Yerik fell asleep on one of the couches they have upstairs. I'll try not to wake him up and bring him home with  me."

"Thanks, man. Really, I owe you." Otabek says as he puts on his charcoal-grey coat. "By the way, how are things with Phichit? You haven't told me anything since that time at the bar."

"Good. I mean... getting there. You know, with the age difference and stuff, even the simplest things can become hard. But with communication and mutual understanding, I think we can grow together in a way, and make it work. We really do love each other, after all." he states, a small smile playing on his lips and eyes brightening up at the thought of his boyfriend.

Otabek can't help but feel his chest swell with emotion at the thought of his best friend finally finding love. "You're a true sap, you know that?" he pushes his friend away as he checks his watch for the time. _8 pm_. 

_Well, that took a lot of time._

"Stop bragging now and go get Yerik, please and thank you." 

"Hey, you asked me!" he shouts as he moves towards the wooden stairs, giving Otabek a small wave.

He takes a small breath before walking over to Yuri. 

Beautiful, magnetic Yuri. 

"Hello," and even if his greeting is mainly directed to the two girls, his eyes don't budge an inch from Yuri's. 

"Hi! Pleasure to meet you, I'm Mila, Yuri's roommate and best friend!" the red haired girl says a little to excitedly, offering her hand to shake. 

"Pleasure's all mine. Thank you for coming today. And... Sara, right? Thank you so much for taking care of Yerik." 

"No problem. I love kids, and he's so adorable and very calm for his age, too!" 

"Yeah, he is." he says proudly. 

He's not mentioned his son to Yuri (not _yet_ ), but he's almost sure it'll come out sometime tonight.

It's not like he's ashamed of it, not at all. There's just a time and a place for everything, and a second meeting at a library certainly isn't it.

"Well, Yuri. Ready to go?" 

"Yep. Let's go. You girls, have fun tonight." he winks at them, Mila's heartfelt laughter resonating in the whole library as Sara blushes a hundred different shades of red.

Otabek looks at him strangely. "What?" 

"Nothing. Now, where are you taking me?" 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"Hope this'll fit your taste." 

In the end, they settled for a bottle of red wine, and Otabek drove them to the top of some mountain where they could ' _see all of the city lights from above and not be bothered by anyone_ ', as Otabek had put it.

"You _do_ know this is the perfect rape scenario, right?" Yuri says jokingly, laughing as he saw Otabek stop dead in his tracks.

"What- No- I mean- I thought that you too wanted a quiet place to relax and well- We can definitely go somewhere else if you-"

Yuri only laughs harder. "Geez, Otabek. Chill, I was just messing with you." 

"Oh, right." Otabek gives him a small, unsure smile as he watches Yuri climb on top of the hood of his car, and soon joins him. 

After a few minutes of trying to open the bottle of wine, with Yuri yelling ' _Just use your teeth!_ ' as Otabek struggled with the cork, both of their glasses were filled with the dark liquid. 

"So... a toast to your newest work." Yuri exclaimed as he raised his glass, eyes never leaving Otabek's.

"A toast to unexpected meetings." Otabek retorted, revelling in the pale blush that tainted Yuri's cheeks in that moment.

Yuri takes a sip and moans. _Actually **moans**_. "Wow. This is good. Like really, really good. Is it French?" 

"Italian, actually. _Primitivo_."

Yuri simply hums as he takes another sip. "You sure do know your wine."

"That I do." 

They stare at the bright light beneath them for a few minutes, comfortable in their silence. "Everything just looks so _small_. Insignificant, even. Really helps you put things into perspective." 

Interested piqued, Otabek turns to Yuri. "Perspective?"

Yuri looks at him, too, and smirks. "Yeah. Everything is insignificant, **we** are- each one of us. We're just like small ants that keep on living without a specific purpose, just because they have to. Working, working, working just to survive. But that's it. We leave nothing on this earth to be remembered by."

He shrugs a bit. "Well, I guess you do. You'll keep on living through your books, at least," another sip, he gracefully lights up a cigarette. 

Otabek looks at him- _really_ looks at him: his features under the pale lights, his messy blonde hair cascading down his back, his cold, _sharp_ eyes; his pouty lips. 

That's when he's sure of it: Yuri _**has**_ to be one of the most beautiful people on this earth. 

"You think so?" 

"I do."

"What about everybody else?" 

A small pause. Takes another drag from his cigarette. 

"We just die." 

And it's that _look_ \- that look Otabek knows all too well: a look of complete, utter sadness and resignation. 

_What has happened to you, Yuri? Why are you so sad?  Why are you saying this?_

"Well anyway," Yuri says, shaking his head and leaning down on the car's glass, "tell me a bit more about you. Not Otabek Altin the novelist, just _you_."

Otabek feels a little strange hearing those words. Since Veronika's passing he'd tried to move on- been on dates, even tried committing to a serious relationship once. As it turned out, all of them were just after his money. And that, _that_ was what hurt the most.

He smiles a little to himself. _Of course Yuri wouldn't think about that_. _Of course he doesn't care_.

"Yuri... you truly are one of a kind." 

The young blonde ( _way too young_ , Otabek keeps repeating to himself) smiles innocently, "Is that so?" 

"Yeah, trust me," Otabek whispers and leans down as well, right next to Yuri, who almost immediately turns on his side to face him.

"Here," he simply says as he extends his elegance fingers towards Otabek mouth. 

That's when it all happens. 

Otabek, agains his better judgement, takes a drag from the cigarette, his lips just barely brushing against Yuri's skin. 

Yuri carefully watches the motion, leaning down just the _slightest_ bit to touch Otabek's neck with his lips. 

"I love the way you smell," he takes in a deep breath, soft lips moving against warm skin as he talks, "the smell of your cologne."

And Otabek knows that he's a goner. 

The cigarette long forgotten, Yuri places a gentle kiss to his neck, moving up to brush the tip of his nose agains the man's stubble, enjoying the slight roughness of it. He continues his ministrations as he reaches his temple, Otabek's chest rising then falling a bit too fast, his eyes closing; reveling into the feel of soft lips on his skin.

"Yuri..." the first one is a warning, not really firm, not very convincing. It comes out following a pleasured breath. 

But as those lips, those soft, _way too soft_ lips reach the corner of his lips, he knows he has to stop this. 

"Yuri." his tone a bit too sharp, too cautious, too cold; enough to make Yuri halt. 

"How old are you?" 

And something clicks in Yuri's eyes: be it fear, worry, or a bit of disappointment even.

"What?" 

Otabek abruptly sits up, the action taking Yuri by surprise, who slightly flinches away. 

"How old are you, Yuri?" 

"...I'm eighteen." it comes out in a whisper. 

Otabek freezes. 

"Eighteen." he repeats slowly, tasting how _wrong_  those words felt like on his tongue.

"Eighteen." Yuri confirms, his gaze casted down to. 

"You're eighteen" Otabek whispers, a mostly to himself. 

"It's what I just told you isn't-"

"You're fucking _eighteen_ years old?!"

And he should've known. He had a hunch about it, he really did, but eighteen was just too much. 

"What do _you_ think you're doing?!" Otabek almost screams, getting down from his car and standing up to confront the young teen in front of him.

"Oh, now you're talking about what _I_ am doing?!" Yuri stands up, too, and angrily pushes Otabek's shoulder. 

"Well, obviously, since I didn't have a single clue about it!" 

"Otabek! I'm eighteen, not a fucking _baby_ for God's sake! I'm legal, you know!"

"That doesn't change a single **damned** thing! I am twenty years old Yuri, twenty **fucking** years older than you! And you are _just_ fourteen years older than my own son! What the fuck am I doing with you, drinking wine, letting you smoke, letting you so close..."

"Close to what?! I didn't even fucking kiss you, fuck, I was _planning_ to, then you decided to go ballistic-" 

"Can you blame me?!"

"Would you just **calm the fuck down**?!" Yuri says exasperatedly, putting his hands on Otabek's shoulder to steady him, "Okay, so maybe you weren't expecting that. It's alright. I'm not blaming you at all, if anything, I was just having a _great_ time together with you and- and I know you are older than me, _much_ older; and that you have a _son_ , that you had a family once or still do, since I can't bring myself to stop thinking about the ring on your finger... but please, please hear me out." Yuri's hands move to his face, the skin warm but not for the right reasons. 

"I can't, Yuri. I really can't. Not right now." Otabek's eyes seem almost empty now, not searching for Yuri's anymore, his cold hands touching pale ones to move them away from his face. 

"I'll just... I'll drive you home now."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"This should be it." vice-like grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles white, Otabek turns his head to the other side.

"Otabek..." Yuri says tentatively. 

"No, Yuri." 

And there's this feeling of guilt: a feeling that made its way to Otabek's stomach as soon as he heard those words, ' _I'm eighteen_ '. The cold realization of how he had let his emotions overcome his capacity for reason, how he'd let this young ( _way too young_ ) boy give him pleasure, doesn't matter how or when, he probably didn't even know what he was doing. How he had probably _taken advantage_ of him. How his body had reacted to those eyes, to those _lips_ \-- 

it was just utterly _wrong_.

A soft sigh. "Okay." he feels some shifting before hearing the car's door slam shut.

"I left my phone number written on a small piece of paper on the seat. When you feel like you're ready to talk about what happened tonight, or just want to set things straight just so that I don't get ahead of myself: give me a call. Or just text me. Just please, please don't disappear and act like nothing's ever happened."

But Otabek stays silent, not quite trusting his voice. 

Another sigh. "I felt it, you know." and _there_ it is again, that overwhelming sadness in his voice, "...please don't let me be the only one to have felt that." 

And with that, he's gone. Otabek waits for his steps to fade, for the sound of a door closing. _That_ 's when he turns his gaze to his side, the blonde hair and green eyes he had been looking for the past month nowhere in sight.

He hits his head to the steering wheel, his forehead setting the horn off. " **Shit** \- _**Fuck**_ -" a frustrated sound escapes his lips, 

"I'm a real idiot, aren't I?" 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOAH! TWO CHAPTERS IN A DAY?   
> ...Yup. I couldn't leave you guys hanging for too long.  
> I warned you about angst... now didn't I?   
> So that's what you get.   
> As always, your comments and kudos motivate my writing! And I'm always very glad to read your thoughts about it.

**Author's Note:**

> ...So that was that. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think about this and if I should keep on writing and posting it on here. 
> 
> Thank you so much for taking some of your time to read it!


End file.
